#james vc: y u gotta do dis to me jacko

[fitzjmes]

The stray bullet hits him like a freight train and for a moment, Jack damn near doubles over; hand automatically pressed to his belly as blood stains the ice beneath his feet. Great. Dying out here and then immediately freezing to death again sounded like an awful plan. After a beat, he collapses to his knees unwillingly. "Not a bear." The comment is lighter than deserved, and followed by a red stained cough; hand coming away even more drenched. "You could work on your social skills."

unprompted asks that i don’t love // accepting, i guess -.-

“Weapons down!” The Captain’s voice rang out amidst the chaos of men running and shouting— everyone fearing and expecting the worst. That bear, which had killed many of them already. Including Sir John, who had met an untimely and violent death at the hands of that beast. 

The panic was inevitable, it seemed. And James could always feel it sitting at the back of his head, too, though it was easily subdued into nothing more than a subconscious murmur. However, this would not do. No, it would not. Shooting without first confirming the target would—

“Jack?” Good Christ. 

Fitzjames took a few running steps to the man, whose blood was spilling out upon the snow at an alarming rate. He did not catch him quick enough but grabbed a hold of him nonetheless, fingers curling into his greatcoat with violent force. “Fetch Doctor Stanley,” Fitzjames demanded, all the while attempting to stem the bleeding, “Now!” The hot, dark red blood bubbled through his fingers, through the edge of the coat which he was attempting to press against the wound. There was no stopping it. Not without proper medical equipment.

“You will be alright,” he promised, as he held on to the other, “You will be alright. Breathe. Slowly, carefully. Do not move, we will have a physician on the ice in a matter of minutes.”